Strangers With Memories
by FlowerChild22
Summary: "Then she's lying. And you're lying to yourself too if you think that you can sit with her and have tea and bloody scones on Sundays and feel nothing but complete friendship." They hate each other in high school. They fuck in university. They marry. They divorce. Maybe, four years later, loves occurs the right way. EWE. AU. HIATUS.
1. Alohomora

**Hey guys, so this is very different to what you know and expect from me, but it was an idea I couldn't quite let go. I wanted to explore a side that many stories don't usually tell; where there isn't a happy forever after ending, and in this case I wanted to explore the idea of divorce and personal growth, even in adults. Obviously this is EWE.**

 **I haven't quite decided who I'd like Ginny to end up with, so let me know if you have a preference. So read on if you still insist that Draco and Hermione would have been amazing together or if you're curious. Enjoy :)**

 **(p.s. This is much more _mature_ than my usual stuff. Consider yourself warned)**

 **Disclaimer:** All characters, plots and familiar content are copyright of their respective owners and any reproduced content is only used for creative purposes.

* * *

 **Then**

She first met him in high school. He oozed confidence and charisma. Which she unfortunately—but she believed fortunately—was not able to experience.

He was rich, arrogant, and had a high opinion of himself.

He was beautiful. Aristocratic features, white-blonde hair that fell casually and effortlessly, and—in their later years—a tall athletic build thanks to his participation in their school's swimming team.

She hated him.

. . .

He saw her on their first day of school. She had amber eyes that were bright and full of curiosity and wonder. Those same eyes dulled and narrowed when looking in his direction.

She was smart, arrogant, and had a high opinion of herself.

She was also beautiful. Big, bushy brown hair, a natural rosy blush, and a pretty smile with straight white teeth—thanks to the three years of braces she suffered in their early years.

He hated her.

. . .

They tried to avoid each other as much as possible in high school, which was easy with their own respective friends and interests.

Her hard work and impressive list of extra-curricular activities allowed her a full scholarship in univeristy to pursue a politics degree. She wanted to make a positive difference. Her parents were proud.

His hard work and trust fund enabled him to pursue a law degree. He wanted to make money. His parents expected no less.

They didn't cross paths until each of their final years in their International Economics elective.

. . . . . .

 **The Start**

Her usually determined steps slowed as she recognised the white-blonde hair of someone she did not expect to see.

Then again, Oxford University? She was sure it was his family's alma mater. Maybe so since the university's founding. She wouldn't have been surprised if his family tree was linked to one of the founders.

She willed that he did not recognise her—her hair was less frizzy and longer than he remembered, but still thick and unruly—and hoped that he would keep his gaze ahead. But she couldn't avert her gaze. He was still just as beautiful, even more so. Still aristocratic, still athletic, and still oozed confidence.

He must have felt her unmoving gaze, because he turned then and their eyes locked just before she passed him.

She nodded her head at him. "Malfoy."

He nodded back. No sneer, no snark. Just civility. "Granger."

She passed him and sat somewhere closer to the front and unpacked her bag. She was proud of herself.

Laptop open in front of her and a fresh open page next to her, she proceeded to take note of the professor's name and contact details. A red square appeared on her Facebook screen.

 _Draco Malfoy_  
 _Friends since October 2006_

 **Draco** : Sitting in the front? Typical Granger.

Hermione read and reread the message. Was it teasing in a malicious way? She had thought that her civil greeting earlier had been mature.

She unconsciously sucked her bottom lip in and worried her lip between her teeth. Maybe it was friendly?

Squaring her shoulders, Hermione typed back her reply efficiently and concisely.

 **Hermione** : :P

Okay, so not so concise.

His reply was immediate.

 **Draco** : Real mature.

She allowed a small grin and typed back her reply before returning her attention back on the professor. There wasn't much to pay attention to since everything was all introductory—she knew the basics of economics, but it didn't hurt to brush up.

. . .

 **Hermione** : Says the one messaging me instead of paying attention. Take notes Malfoy, maybe for once you might be actual competition.

Draco leaned back in his chair and his eyes unwillingly flickered back to the bushy haired brunette sitting in the second row. He wasn't sure what had compelled him to message her, but seeing a familiar face put him at ease strangely.

Draco had mixed feelings about graduating that year. Partly because he didn't know what to do after—should he do graduate law? Should he take over the family business? Should he pursue his own career entirely?—and partly because it meant he was an adult. With real responsibilities.

He had been told what was expected of him by his—well-meaning, he was sure, but overbearing—parents up until that point and now he was overwhelmed by the idea of freedom, he wasn't sure what to do with it.

Then Hermione Granger walks past him, her usual snotty walk—nose up, facing ahead of her—and gives him a civil greeting, and for once he felt in control of his life. If Hermione _fucking_ Granger can walk by him with no malevolent feelings towards him, then he could take control of his life.

She was less frizzy looking and since was no longer in those frumpy school uniforms their private school had demanded to be worn only by regulation—not that stopped many of the boys to loosen their ties and top buttons, and girls to shorten their hems, but not Hermione Granger of course—she looked different.

If he had been asked in their high schools to predict how Granger were to dress as a twenty-one year old, he would have said: white shirt under a navy knitted vest, grey slacks, or even a grey skirt at a reasonable length, and practical ugly black loafers. He shuddered at the thought.

Instead the Granger he saw was dressed like every other twenty-one year old woman: black jeans, a burgundy turtleneck sweater, hounds-tooth long coat and black block-heeled boots. Her face wore nothing else but mascara and a defined brow, paired with her natural rosy blush.

Still beautiful.

. . . . . .

The next time they crossed paths, they both were attending their nine am International Economics tutorial.

She was already seated in the second row, laptop in front of her and fresh new page open in her book. He took a chance and slid in next to her before he could talk himself out of it.

"Granger," he greeted, keeping his eyes ahead.

She turned slowly and stared at him. "Malfoy."

He didn't say anything further, but she continued to stare. "Can I help you?"

"No," he replied, writing down their tutor's details. "Can I help you?"

She turned slowly, back towards the front and picked up her pen. "No."

They were quiet again while their tutor explain their first assignment, before she asked him without turning her attention away from the tutor. "What do you want?"

Draco bit back his smile and shrugged nonchalantly. "Nothing. I like seeing a familiar face."

"We're not friends," she told him, putting her pen down.

"I know," he responded, still keeping cool. She was about to get riled up he could tell.

"Then why sit here?" She asked, determined to figure out his end game. She was in her final year of university, she didn't need Draco's usual bullshit.

Malfoy turned to face her and looked in her eyes. The tutor's voice interrupted their quiet conversation.

"Is there a Granger here?" He asked, looking up from the list in his hand. "Hermione Granger?"

Granger turned away from Malfoy and slowly raised her hand. "Yes."

The tutor—whose name she missed because of Malfoy's determination to converse with her—locked eyes with her. "Your assigned partner is Draco Malfoy."

She froze, unable to believe her eyes. Never in her experience of university, had she ever been assigned a partner. And it was only her luck that she was partnered with the _one_ prat she knew.

Draco smirked at her, and she almost thought that it was something he set up. He stood up—when had the class finished?—and held out his hand for her to shake. "Pleasure to meet you, partner."

Hermione stood up, her stuff packed and ready for her next class, and stared him in the eye. His trademark smirk from high school remained on his face and she narrowed her eyes before shaking his hand begrudgingly.

She said nothing and turned the other way to leave the tutorial room for her next class.

If course it was only _her_ luck.

* * *

 **Read, review, and let me know what you think!  
\- FlowerChild22**


	2. Fiendfyre

**_Gia1802_ I hope this is what you wanted? _Maturity_ rating guys.**

 **Note: 'The Start' refers to them in university, which is technically set in the past (say circa, 2009 - 2011). 'Now' refers them divorced (2015).**

 **Enjoy ;)**

 **Disclaimer:** All characters, plots and familiar content are copyright of their respective owners and any reproduced content is only used for creative purposes.

* * *

 **The Start**

"Malfoy," Hermione huffed exasperated, "could you for once not be a prat?"

Draco scowled and settled back in his seat, crossing his arms. "I'm not."

"Yes," Hermione stressed with a roll of her eyes, "you are. You've been so busy trying to chase this idea of yours instead of sticking to what we agreed."

It was Draco's turn to roll his eyes. "Granger, I know you're by the book, but for once following what is expected isn't what they want. If we can approach it from a number of ways, it can be insightful and critical."

Hermione frowned and said nothing in response. She couldn't argue the logic in that, but hell could freeze over before she'd admit he was right.

"Thanks Malfoy," Draco said to himself, as he poured over the academic papers he had in front of him. "You're so smart to think that. Thanks for being a great partner."

Hermione dropped her highlighter and groaned. They had been working in the university's library for a couple of hours now, and they were two of only a handful of people in the library. They had chosen desks away from the quiet chatter and now were feeling the effects of spending too much time in each other's company isolated from others.

"Malfoy," Hermione hissed. She tried to keep the prissy tone she had been scorned for in high school out of her voice, but Malfoy really pushed her patience.

Draco set his jaw and flipped his page ignoring her.

Hermione wasn't able to focus no matter how many times she reread the same sentence and the sound of Draco rustling his papers. Everything about him pissed her off.

"Shut up, God," Hermione breathed out in irritation.

"What is your problem?" Draco cried, louder than acceptable for a library, but they were alone.

Hermione stood up and started gathering her things. "I can't stand working with you. Let's just research separately and meet later tomorrow."

Draco stood up with her and pointed a finger at her. "You have some serious issues, did you know that?"

She made a sound of indignation and gestured to herself. " _I_ have issues? You're the one who has to argue with everything I say."

"What are you talking about?" He asked irritated.

Hermione was worked up now. Her breaths left her fast and poked him hard. "Anything I suggest you have to pick apart, you even had an issue with where we sat!"

Draco stepped towards her, tilting his head down towards her. They were close now; her short breaths puffed across his face. "You're so bloody uptight and a know it all."

Hermione smacked her hands against his chest to shove him back, but her was too steady on his feet and only swung back slightly. "You're pretentious and just as much as an know it all. Even more!"

He hesitated; they were very close now and her hands had not moved from his chest. He was reminded then, as his eyes flickered across her face, that she was very pretty. He couldn't ignore her beauty. Her face was free of make up today, he noticed, and realised that she had freckles across her nose, only a few, probably from the sun.

Her lashes were curled and framed her amber eyes wonderfully, lips moist—she had a habit of wetting her lips when she was gearing herself for a fight—and a delightful pink flush across her cheeks, much more furious than her usual rosy blush.

She must've noticed his change in his demeanour because she faltered, unsure what this was turning into. His eyes were no longer trained on hers, but rather her lips and she subconsciously licked them.  
Draco inched forward in response, but then hovered over her lips unsure if he should proceed.

This was dangerous territory and Hermione's heart rate shot up in fear, but she was afraid to admit that there was anticipation. She could feel it in her fingertips; they wanted to run themselves along his high cheekbones and stupid aristocratic jawline.

Slowly ever so slowly he pressed his lips against hers and immediately after that it was fire.

Hermione gasped and Draco took the opportunity to slip his tongue in teasingly and flicked her upper lip.

It was fire; burning hotly and building furiously as if to seek vengeance. Both pushed against it, pushing into it, fuelling it with hatred and passion and a sense of desperation.

She couldn't decide where to place her hands; weaving and pulling tuffs of his stupidly white-blonde hair, or sliding sensually across his shoulders and down his chest.

His couldn't settle whether they wanted to wrap themselves around her small waist, like a snake squeezing its prey, or if they wanted to stroke the smooth skin of her sun-kissed thighs. He was reminded of her clothing then; she was wearing a white collared shirt underneath a red woollen sweater, but knee high boots with a tartan skirt that if a few inches shorter would have broken school regulation. But they weren't in school anymore and Draco thanked that Hermione hadn't turned out to be that vest-wearing practical shoes Granger he had pictured.

His body acted of its own volition, pressing deliciously against hers, his tall stature towering over her small one and she struggled to tilt her head back enough to kiss him. She stepped back until the backs of her thighs hit the antique wooden desk and Draco helped her settled on top of the old mahogany. She pulled him back against her with her ankles and then hitched her knees high on either side of his hips.

Malfoy eased her back and moved his mouth to lick up the column of her throat. She sighed contently, clutching his hair in her fingers, and he could feel the cool metal of the rings she wore on her right index finger and left middle finger.

His hands slipped under her skirt and he stroked his finger along the bottom hem of her panties.

The voice in the back of Hermione's head that insisted this was inappropriate grew and she gently pushed Draco back before he could move his—talented, if the rumours were true—fingers to press against her centre, as much as it pained her.

"What?" He asked breathlessly, confused why this was ending.

Hermione shook her head and waited until her got her breath back. "We should move."

Draco let her move out of his arms and eventually realised that she intended to go to his dorm, or take him to hers. He stuffed all his papers into his bag haphazardly and ran a quick hand through his hair to make it look less dishevelled. Hermione quickly righted her clothing, but it didn't matter because as Malfoy pressed his hand on the small of her back and they excited the library, they didn't see anyone on their way out.

They walked quickly and Hermione was laughing breathlessly as Draco struggled to keep his hands from her while they walked to his dorm. Thankfully his roommate was not home—Draco muttered his thanks that he barely spent the night there—and they dropped their bags by the door and Hermione locked it while Draco settled himself on his bed removing his shoes.

Hermione did the same, bending down to unzip her long boots and Draco welcomed the view. She spun around and walked purposefully towards him, mirroring the smirk he had plastered on his face.

She settled herself on top of him, knees either side, and for once he was more than happy to let her take charge. She leaned forward and gave him a pretty smile before she kissed him. His hands were quick to tug her sweater over her head and he allowed her to do the same with both his sweater and shirt at once.

She appreciatively ran her hands up and down his sides and across his chest while he busied himself with unbuttoning her crisp white shirt. Her hands dropped to his belt and soon she was tugging his pants down and he was making way with her bra.

She climbed off him to pull her skirt and panties down and he kicked of his pants and jocks.

They wasted no time and she immediately slotted herself over him before he had the chance to sit up and wrap his arms around her. He groaned and his hands gripped her thighs and she laughed lightly and ground herself against him. His hands moved to her hips to encourage her to speed up, but she rose up on her knees and dropped herself down before he could and she began to bounce up and down his shaft, her hands clutching at shoulders, her nails digging in.

He was losing fast, grunting loudly—loud enough he was sure the gamer next door and the history nerd on his other side could hear. If his neighbours didn't hear him, then they certainly heard Hermione—greatly affected by the hot sounds coming from Hermione's mouth. Her breaths were escaping her in sweet little sighs in between the cries that were growing volume.

"Fuck, fuck, _fuuuc_ —" She breathed out, eyes clutched closed, focusing on that sweet spot Draco's dick was delectably hitting every time.

Draco's own eyes struggled to stay open; he wanted to watch Hermione bounce in his lap, he wanted his moment to burn into his memory. She was nothing he ever had before; she was passionate and unapologetic for everything she was taking for him. And he didn't care, he'd give it to her a thousand times over.

She struggled to keep her speed going, but she could feel it coming, that burst of fireworks that left her feeling weightless.

"S-s-sooo _closssse_ , Dray-co!" She cried out and then there it was. Brighter than she had ever felt and almost too strong for her to handle.

Draco surprised himself by following immediately, spilling into her with all his effort. "Shit."

They stayed as they were, slick with sweat but they didn't mind.

"Shit," he repeated, pulling back from clutching Hermione. "Are you on something?"

Hermione nodded tiredly, unable to respond.

Draco relaxed and pulled them down onto the mattress. They untangled themselves from each other and readjusted their position so that they lay on their backs breathing hard.

"I didn't expect that," Draco confessed after a while.

Hermione nodded. She focused on the white of his ceiling. "You're still a prat."

He rolled his eyes and tucked his hands behind his head. "You're still a swot."

. . .

Hermione dropped her chin into her palm staring glumly at nothing over Ginny's shoulder.

Ginny took a careful sip of her cappuccino. Tea was much to drab and dull. She kept calm even though she was dying to know every single detail about her best friend's tumble with the biggest—but sexiest—prat from their high school.

"I never knew how. . ." Hermione trailed off unsure of how to complete her sentence.

"Sexually compatible you'd be?" Ginny supplied. In all honesty, she could see how that was possible. They did hate each other and even it could have been described as explosive, chemistry was still chemistry.

Hermione dropped her hand and groaned. "But why _him_?"

Ginny stifled a laugh. The normally composed and sophisticated Hermione Granger was replaced by a person Ginny could only described as dishevelled. In fact, if Ginny leaned in closer, she was certain that she'd be able the smell of her friend's recent activities.

Instead she offered her friend a shrug. "I don't know. It happens. Honestly Hermione, it's not a big deal, really."

Hermione glared at her friend. "Yeah right, not a big deal. This is Malfoy we're talking about! Draco fucking Malfoy. He's never going to forget this! Or worse, would want to repeat it."

Ginny shrugged coyly. "By the looks—and smell—of it, that doesn't sound like a bad thing."

At her words, Hermione immediately sniffed her clothes and hair. "Fuck, he's everywhere!"

Ginny took sympathy on her friend and grabbed her hand. "Listen Hermione, if anyone can handle Malfoy, it's you. Why does this need to change anything? You're Hermione Granger and you can do anything."

Hermione squared her shoulders, but there was still a little hesitance in her expression. "You're right. Fuck him—"

Ginny held herself in check and didn't remind her that it was too late for that..

"—he's still a prat and I just need to get through this term."

"Exactly!" Ginny encouraged her. She paused before asking unabashedly, "So, he's totally a fucking Adonis right?"

Hermione's cheeks burned red for the memories from the night before hit her and the embarrassment that she could feel her thighs tightening in anticipation.

* * *

 **So yeah, bet you weren't expecting that so early on.**

 **Also, I'm Australian, so I have NO CLUE about the English tertiary system (is it even called that? And also reminds me to go back and change the college I had written in chap 1) or Oxford, so I'm kinda pulling this shit outta my arse. So if you guys have a clue, educate me and drop me a PM.**

 **Read, review, and I'm 21 in 18 days URGH,  
-FlowerChild22**


	3. Epoximise

**Probably should start writing more since uni will start in a few weeks.**

 **Enjoy!**

 **Disclaimer:** All characters, plots and familiar content are copyright of their respective owners and any reproduced content is only used for creative purposes.

* * *

Hermione wanted to pretend nothing happened. Draco was more than happy to play along.

Looking into that night for meaning would be fruitless since it was purely physical need and although it was mind-blowing for both, a repeat would be too much complication in their relationship. Not that relationship would be an appropriate word to describe their affiliation.

Their plan to ignore that night and return to nasty name-calling and sneers lasted two weeks.

. . .

Hermione huffed and smacked her hands down by her sides in frustration. Her mind was much too restless to allow her any sleep; assignments were being given what seemed like every day, she wasn't happy with the quality of her paper for her Political Sociology class, and to top it off her parents were discussing the idea of moving to Australia now that she was about to finish university.

There was also the fact that her night with Draco had never left the back of her mind and she _really_ needed something to distract her.

 _God_ , she thought to herself. She was embarrassed to find that her thighs squeezed together at the thought of him. Specifically his body. . .his hair twisting around her fingers. . . _his_ fingers dancing underneath her skirt.

She groaned and threw down her duvet. Her mind was suggesting something that had her both wanting to smack sense into her brain and biting her lips in anticipation.

 _What are you going to do? March over there and jump him?_ She scolded herself.

She shook her head. _Don't be silly Hermione, Malfoy is just another guy. It wasn't that good._

She laughed in exasperation. She knew she was lying to herself. There really was a chemistry that neither of them could ignore. And really, it wasn't as if she had to date him.

Muttering to herself of her disbelief that she was actually going to go through with this, she slipped out from under her covers and took a peak underneath her pyjamas—not at all sexy in her opinion, just a pair of grey sport shorts and a mauve ribbed long sleeve—and was glad that she was wearing a matching lace set. She left her pyjamas as they were—changing those would have been too much, she didn't need him thinking she dressed for _him_ —and threw on her Oxford University hoodie and slipped her bare feet into a pair of sheepskin boots. She snorted at her appearance.

Her hair was a lost cause; strands were falling out of her braid but she didn't care. The man had seen her naked for God's sake.

Clutching her phone and keys in one hand, she snuck out of her room and quietly brisk walked to Draco's residential college—obviously the pretentious expensive one, though Hermione could argue technically they all were—and then hesitated outside his door.

"What the fuck is wrong with me?" She whispered to herself. A number of things could happen; his roommate might be home for once, he might be a very heavy sleeper and not hear her knock, he might not be in the mood because it was _four in the fucking_ morning.

Steeling her shoulders, she took a deep breath and knocked as quietly she could on his door.

She didn't have to wait too long before Draco's tall figure appeared before her. She took a quick look behind him and didn't seem to notice his roommate—she was starting to doubt he even had one.

Without any explanation or giving him time to ask what on earth had her standing at his door at four AM, she pushed her hand to his chest and forced both of them inside his room before anyone could see them in the corridor.

"Okay," she breathed out, stalling and trying to calm her nerves. "Here's the deal."

Draco raised a perfect eyebrow and crossed his arms. "The deal?"

She ignored him and ploughed ahead because if she stopped she'd realise how stupid this idea actually was.

"We hate each other," she stated. She stepped out of her boots and pulled her hoodie over her head.

Draco's eyebrows shot up. "Yes, we do."

"I mean, I really can't stand you," she continued, more talking to herself than him.

Her hands rested on her hips for a moment, and Draco took the time to appreciate the short—very short—running shorts she was wearing. Her legs were toned and tanned and he wanted nothing more than to run his lips up and down their length.

She then surprised him by yanking her shirt over her head and dropping her shorts at her feet. She was in a black lace bra and pantie set, and he really liked them. _Really_ liked.

"And even though I would rather limit any time I have to spend in your company," she told him while stepping towards him and pushing him back to his bed, "it's hard to deny that we're compatible."

He now was flat on his back and Hermione was sliding her hands up his torso, taking his shirt with her. She straddled him, sitting directly on him, and started to rock gently back and forth.

He cleared his throat—he wasn't sure if this was a dream or a sick prank, but he couldn't bring himself to stop her.

"So we might as well take advantage of the opportunity," she explained, still rocking back and forth in a steady rhythm. His hands automatically held her waist, just resting.

"No attachments, no feelings, no worries," she told him in a business-like tone, as if she wasn't slowly driving him to insanity and pleasure with her pace. "We're both in final year, so there's already so much on our plates."

She sat up to tug his pants down and took his briefs with them. Her hands reached behind her to unhook her bra and she leaned back to slide her panties down her legs. She placed herself back over him, this time sliding down onto him and started a long, intense, deliberate rhythm.

Draco's hands tightened, but he reined in the urge to want to speed up. Instead, he tried to get his thoughts to understand Hermione's sudden appearance and talk of opportunities.

"So, what you're saying," Draco started slowly, "is that we pretty much do this as possible."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "That's one way to put it."

Draco grinned. "Well then, I certainly will not object to that."

Hermione moved one hand to rest on top of Draco's mouth. "Shut up."

She felt him smile under her hand and he nodded. She immediately went to work, speeding up her movements, but still keeping it intense by rising up almost all the way and sliding herself down until she sighed and Draco groaned when his dick hit something wonderful inside her.

This time round, it wasn't a quick raging fire, but rather a slow torturous burn. Hermione could feel her thigh starting to strain with the slow pace, but she pushed on wanting her to be completely in control of the pace.

Draco must have been reaching his peak faster than she, because as she dropped down she felt his thumb find her clit and started to rub slowly in time of her hips. His face buried itself into the side of her neck, and Hermione clutched at his head, digging her fingers into his hair securely.

His finger then jumped to a rapid pace and Hermione knew he was almost there, and he was trying to take her to the top as fast as he was approaching. Hermione's cries grew in volume, but she didn't care if his neighbours could hear her. All that mattered was this: Draco's fingers, Draco's cock, and his straight, white teeth scraping against her skin.

It was sloppy, it was sublime. It was everything.

* * *

 **So yeah, there's a lot of hanky panky between these two in the beginning.**

 **Read and review,  
\- FlowerChild22**


	4. Lumos

**A short G-rated one.**

 **Enjoy :)**

 **Disclaimer:** All characters, plots and familiar content are copyright of their respective owners and any reproduced content is only used for creative purposes.

* * *

Before they could realise, both Hermione and Draco had reached the end of their first term in their final year.

Time had gone unnoticed by Hermione 54between assignments and running the PPE society, as well as starting to organise post-graduate prospects. Draco had been working hard by balancing the family business and starting to get serious about post-graduate law. And in between their respective responsibilities, they had spent majority of their spare time in each other's company, notably in bed, on desks, and against shelves. Anywhere really.

So much time had passed that Draco had not realised that he had been with a single partner for three months—the longest he'd ever had—while Hermione was able to stay in her longest relationship since her, then-serious, high school boyfriend, Ronald Weasley. Needless to say, neither had referred to their _arrangement_ as a relationship.

It was only when Hermione, standing in Harrods in between white and purple men's shirts, began to wonder the exact conditions of their _arrangement_. She had subconsciously reached for a light grey dress shirt and dark grey tie, trying to decide whether grey would compliment or clash with Draco's grey eyes, and froze once she realised what she had begun to do. Buying gifts for someone you occasionally—though it was more than _occasionally_ —shagged seemed to contradict the implied rules. She sucked in her lip and chewed on it.

 _What if she bought him a gift and he didn't buy her one? What if she didn't and he did?_

Although she spent more time with Draco than with almost anyone else she had ever known, she couldn't imagine what he would think if she handed him a gift.

She didn't even know what she, herself, would think if Draco handed _her_ a gift.

She'd imagine she would have run away.

Hermione thought it through like every problem: with logic. Realistically she would not see him until January for second term, and that would be well into the month, much too late for exchanging gifts. But then, it was always good to be prepared just in case. She could always re-gift whatever she had purchased in case she didn't need to give it to Draco.

Squaring her shoulders she regarded the selection of shirts and placed the shirt and tie in her hands back where she found it. Instead she made her way towards the colognes and decided that would be the most appropriate gift: still thoughtful but just impersonal enough.

By the time Hermione arrived at her parents' home, her concerns had been answered because there was a rectangular parcel addressed to her. Curiously, flipped over the package and found Draco's address: his parents' manor.

She snorted, unable to believe that he had actually listed the address to a _Malfoy Manor_.

Taking the package up to her room, she weighed the rectangle in her hands; it was slightly heavy, perhaps a book?

Cautiously, she set the package down on her desk and began to rip open the tape, her heart pounding in her chest. Underneath bubble wrap lay a black suede day-to-day planner and a black Parker pen with gold accents.

Her shoulders sagged with relief: still thoughtful but just impersonal enough.

She smiled to herself and flicked through the gold rimmed pages of the planner and then picked up the fountain pen. It was heavier than she expected.

Pulling out a sheet from her personalised letter set—a gift from her childhood friend Harry the year before, she laughed to herself on the thought that she was writing a letter to Harry's rival—she addressed a letter to Draco, using her new gift.

She smiled in quiet glee at the smoothness of the pen; it allowed her hand to freely glide across the page.

 _Draco,_

 _Thanks for the thoughtful gift. The pen is exquisite, as is the planner. I hope you enjoy yours._

 _H.G._

 _p.s. How did you know where I lived? Are you stalking me?_

Alongside the cologne she purchased from Harrods, Hermione had also purchased the first of the _Game of Thrones_ novels. After finding out that Draco was a closet _Lord of the Rings_ fan, she figured Draco would enjoy the long and raunchy fantasy series.

She slipped the note into a box with his gifts and made a note to drop it off at the post office when she looked for Ginny's gift the next day.

It wasn't until she had posted the gift and was lying in her bed the next night that she realised that she had addressed the note to _Draco_ rather than _Malfoy._ She tried to convince herself that it wasn't a big deal.

* * *

 **Read and review,  
\- FlowerChild22**


	5. Expecto Patronum

**We're starting to move towards the present, so I apologise if this seems rushed.**

 **There's a poll on my profile to choose who Ginny ends up with!**

 **Enjoy :)**

 **Disclaimer:** All characters, plots and familiar content are copyright of their respective owners and any reproduced content is only used for creative purposes.

* * *

It wasn't long after exchanging gifts, did Draco and Hermione realise they could not ignore the _affection_ that had spiked between them. If asked, neither could exactly pinpoint when that had happened, only that it was one month after Christmas and little facets of each other had rooted themselves into the other's life.

It was times like when Hermione was hunched over her laptop, hurriedly punching words into her keyboard. She didn't even pause for a second to flick her bushy hair out of her face, but instead continued to type with her right hand, feeling the pressure to complete her essay before her personal deadline of nine in the evening.

Draco—who previously may have rolled his eyes or scowled at her intensity—quirked his lip up in affectionate humour. He knew that her assignment probably wasn't due for at least another week, but knew her need for perfection. He gathered up her hair into as much of a bun her could, he wasn't entirely sure about hair and even more so her voluminous locks, and wrapped a hair tie around it.

Hermione then did pause to smile gratefully up at him and he just smiled back at her and pecked her quickly on her lips and left her to concentrate on her assignment, and moved to the kitchen to make her a cup of coffee.

Or it was times like when Draco was trying not to show that he was nervous for his interview for graduate law school, sitting in a expensive looking deep brown leather chair, sweaty palms placed at the tops of his knees. He looked composed and indifferent, save for the convulsive shaking of his left knee.

Hermione was seated on his right for moral support, but noticing Draco's tell-tale nervous habit, she reached over and placed her hand on top of his to stop his shaking leg. He stopped immediately, and looked at her, his grey stormy eyes softening at her amber ones.

His hand flipped over so that she could wrap her fingers around his own. He held her hand tightly, using her small hand to keep him anchored and steady.

. . .

A month after Christmas Draco and Hermione were back at university, lying on Draco's small bed, legs entwined and hands searching.

"Draco," Hermione asked him quietly. It was early Sunday morning and although she had spent the night at his (roommate-less) dorm room, they had not spent the night naked under covers. They had just slept, arms wrapped around each other.

Draco was unable to sleep because he was uneasy with how his interview had went. He also had been toying with the idea that it was time to move out of university residency and had wanted to know if Hermione would consider moving in with him, but was afraid to ask.

He made a noise to let her know he was listening, but didn't stop playing with her long hair.

She hesitated, and Draco was suddenly nervous. They had never really been scared to say anything to each other and he was afraid that she had decided that this was the end.

"Do you—" She began, but she stopped herself, unsure how to proceed. She licked her lips and avoided his piercing gaze.

"Please don't—" She began again. She had meant to say 'hate me', but instead gathered her courage and focused on his collarbone.

She took a deep breath. "I'm sorry if this isn't something you want to hear, but—" She laughed lightly to herself, embarrassed of her next words. "I love you, Draco."

Draco had his eyes closed in anticipation, but opened them as soon as the words left her mouth. He breathed out in relief and rushed forward to press his lips against hers in urgency.

"That's good news," he told her, but quickly kissed her again. And she laughed in relief at his reaction, her heart pounding with adrenaline.

"Because," he told her, pulling back to look her in the eyes. He cupped both sides of her face so that she could see him. "I was hoping to ask you move in with me."

Hermione grinned widely and felt giddy. She nodded rapidly and kissed him.

Draco smiled and leaned forward to whisper against her lips. "I love you too, Granger."

. . .

Blaise Zabini was almost stunned into silence by Draco's news. He didn't want to pull the elated smile from his best friend, but he also had to be the voice of reason.

"Don't you think you're rushing into this?" Blaise asked carefully. He tried to keep any accusations from his tone.

Draco wasn't disheartened and continued to flick through the local real estate magazine for any cheap but nice apartments. He had a red pen in his right hand, ready to circle any potential properties.

"I've never felt like this about anyone before Blaise," Draco responded, unable to keep the smile off his face.

Blaise couldn't help but smile at his friend's happiness. "That's great mate. Which is exactly why you should take some time to think about this."

Draco shrugged and looked up at his friend, who was standing by the doorway. "I love her. She's the only one."

Blaise couldn't argue with that.

. . .

Hermione grinned widely and waited for her friends' responses.

Harry Potter and Ginny Weasley stared at their usually logical friend, speechless. Ginny had her fork halfway up to her mouth, crumbs from her orange and poppyseed cake dropping back onto her plate. Harry had his cup to his lips, sipping on his earl grey, but had snorted into his cup when Hermione had dropped her news.

"Ahem," Harry cleared his throat, trying to think of what to say. "I'm sorry?"

"You're what?" Ginny asked plainly.

"Draco and I will be moving in together," Hermione repeated, not fussed but her friends' lack of enthusiasm.

Ginny dropped her fork back onto her plate. "No, we got that."

Harry looked at Ginny and rushed to play good cop. "Sorry Hermione, we're just surprised."

Hermione shrugged, a small happy smile on her face. "I love him."

Harry and Ginny fell quiet after that. Hermione may be the most logical of their trio, but she also was as stubborn as she was intelligent.

"Have you thought this through?" Harry asked gently.

Hermione scowled. "I didn't tell the both of you to ask your opinions. I just wanted to share my news with my two best friends."

Harry and Ginny looked guilty after that.

. . .

Hermione rested her hands on her hips and took a deep breath. She looked proudly around the living room she and Draco had finished setting up. It looked like a home.

There was a cream coloured sofa seated opposite to a fifty inch TV donated to them from Blaise—his mum specifically, as she had upgraded hers to an even bigger one to match the high lifestyle of her new husband, a stock broker—and a colourful rug underneath a worn looking coffee table that they had found both at an charity shop.

Their apartment was far from the sophisticated elegance of the regal Malfoy Manor and the ordered class of the Granger's modern home. It was small, but big enough for two, and personalised with small knick-knacks belonging to the both of them.

Draco wrapped his arms around her from behind and pecked her above her ear.

Hermione held his arms and leaned against him. "It's perfect."

"It's ours," he replied.

* * *

 **Read and review,**

 **\- FlowerChild22**


	6. Amortentia

**Sorry! Life has been bsy forcing me to become an adult. Fourth year uni is hard. I have an actual real job as an engineer, so yay for adulthood.**

 **Enjoy! :)**

 **p.s. Also, even though I really shouldn't...I've been hit with some inspiration for a new Dramione story. Haha. Whoops.**

 **p.p.s. Apologies in advance because I'll be going away to NY and Canada for a month.**

 **Disclaimer:** All characters, plot and familiar content are copyright of their respective owners and any reproduced content is only used for creative purposes.

* * *

In spite of their friends' doubt, Hermione and Draco's relationship only flourished under the same roof. There were fights, of course, but fights always paved way to their passion and generally ended together in bed, wrapped under the covers.

"God, Malfoy," Hermione growled. She only used his last name when she was deeply irritated with him, as a warning that he was on thin ice and he should proceed with caution. "Is it really that hard for you to understand that I'm busy with assignments too? That I have a club to run and volunteering to organise?"

Draco dragged his palms down his face in agitation. "No, but—"

"Nothing!" Hermione shouted at him. "I have my own priorities. You, of all people, should understand that."

"I do, of course I do, Hermione," Draco responded. He went to step towards her, but she moved back, so he stopped. He raised his arms towards her and took a deep breath. The night was not happening the way he had wanted at all.

"I just wanted to go out for dinner, just this once," Draco told her. He could feel pathetic sorrow seeping through his words, but it didn't bother him. The past month Hermione had shut everything out, shut him out, so that she could concentrate on her studies and her post-graduation applications.

She was slightly envious that Draco had known he had wanted law school for as long as she knew him, but there were so many opportunities and so many pathways from a politics degree, she couldn't make her mind up.

"I know Draco," she told him, itching to get back to her work. "I appreciate the thought—"

"I don't think you do," Draco cut in, his words sharp and his stance straight. His arms were crossed in front of his chest, and it wasn't the first time she had noticed his strong, but lean figure.

She seethed at his accusation. "How _dare_ you! You make it seem as if _you're_ the only one who makes an effort with this relationship—"

Draco's voice rose to match her's in volume. "It feels like it!"

Hermione couldn't believe her ears. She marched up towards and backed him against the wall. "No! Relationships are about supporting each other, supporting each other's dreams, just as how I've always been there for you and law school."

Draco clicked his tongue. "Can't you see that you're working yourself into the ground? You skip at least one meal a day and live entirely on coffee. I'm proposing one dinner because I can't stand to see you so overworked."

In all honesty, Draco was so adamant to take Hermione to dinner because he had been planning to propose to her. He had consulted Blaise and Blaise kept his sceptical words to himself and had just told him, 'as long as it feels right'.

And it had, so he had asked his mother and father for the family ring and it was now sitting in his front pocket of his dress pants.

Hermione took a deep breath, but continued to exhale in short puffs regardless.

Draco took this as his chance to bring the anger down and settled his hands on her shoulders. "Hermio—"

Hermione saw the soft and loving look in Draco's eyes and pushed forward to press her lips against his. He took his time to respond, surprised by her urgency. He pushed her back slowly and looked her in the eyes, searching for an explanation—not that he was complaining. "Hermio—"

"Shut up," she breathed out, rushing to undo the buttons of his shirt. She needed to feel him, she needed HIM.

Draco quirked the side of his lip in amusement, but complied. His hands found the hem of her sweater and then the waistband of her trackpants. He moved them back towards the counter of the kitchen while he reached for the drawstring on her pants and she reached for his belt buckle.

She managed to unbuckle his belt the same time he dropped her pants and panties to her ankles. Her bare bum was pressed onto the cool counter, but Hermione ignored the coldness of the surface. Her legs wrapped themselves around his hips, pulling him towards her with a hidden strength. Draco quickly inserted himself in her and she cried out in a breathy moan when he filled her.

Her hands scrambled for something to hold on, alternating between digging her nails into his upper arms and scratching the tabletop below her. Draco pumped into her with great concentration, fast and hard. Hermione slid back and forth across the surface from their efforts and she finally settled her grip on the edges of the counter.

Draco leaned forward so that their clothed chests were pressed against each other and their lips just touching. Both their mouths were open, erratic breaths expelled into each other's mouth.

One final deep thrust caused sparks to shoot across Hermione's eyes and ripped a cry from her throat. Draco spilled inside her and he groaned out her name in exhaustion.

Draco fell gently onto Hermione and she attempted to gather her breath. After a minute, while their hearts were still racing as fast as their climaxes had been, Draco lifted himself from her chest and hovered over her lips, his softened member still rooted inside her.

"Marry me, Hermione," he asked her in a breathless plead.

Tears pricked her eyes—whether for the beauty in their coupling, or his request—but she nodded and lifted her tired arms to twist her fingers in his hair.

"Yes," she cried back. She pressed her lips against his and whispered again, "Yes."

. . .

Dinner with their respective parents had surprisingly gone well.

The Malfoys had insisted on paying for a lavish restaurant. Each wine had perfectly complimented every meal, from the butternut squash soup and crème fraiche to the pear clafouti.

Narcissa Malfoy approved of Hermione Granger, despite coming from new money, her parents had respectable jobs—as dentists—she was intelligent and had lovely features, and most of all only encouraged ambition and direction in Draco.

Lucius Malfoy approved of Hermione Granger because she could hold an engaging conversation on politics and provided a different perspective on social and economic issues—not parallel to his own views, but _different_.

Both Narcissa and Lucius were impressed to find that Hermione fit perfectly in the excessively expensive restaurant in her navy short-sleeved crochet dress and pointed suede black heels—she knew which cutlery to use for which meals, her bites and sips were small and controlled, and she knew how to hold a conversation.

Draco was impressed that Hermione was able to get her hair to behave and stay in an elegant chignon.

To Narcissa's delight, Hermione insisted that she play a role in organising their wedding.

The Grangers hosted dinner for the young couple. Draco had brought over a red wine—as suggested by his father—and had impressed David Granger.

Jane Granger blushed under Draco's praising of their three course meal—a french onion soup, lamb shanks, and an apple crumble—laughed at his jokes and was delighted by his charm. He was handsome, intelligent, and looked at her daughter lovingly.

David Granger laughed heartedly at Draco's childhood stories—he had made fun of his aristocratic upbringing—and was impressed at his ambition. He was pleased, and by the sounds of it, treated his only daughter with only adoration and admiration.

By the end of the night, Draco had invited David to play golf with his own father.

. . .

The wedding, extravagant and expensive thanks to Narcissa Malfoy, had only taken two months to organise. The Malfoy Manor was used as a venue, but what they saved in venue fees was made up by other aspects of the wedding.

The backyard was set up with rows upon rows of white fold-up chairs—that were far from cheap or uncomfortable—and the arch above the deck altar and along the inside of the aisle were decorated with flowers that matched the bridal bouquets.

Narcissa and Jane had planned this wedding down to every detail—Narcissa had an eye to match the wedding theme colours with nuances; the white roses blended with the snow residue on the green grass, the pink blush of peonies were an exact replica of the faint blush on Hermione's cheeks, the variety of soft purples in the bouquet were taken from the bridesmaid dresses, and bright greens and gold accents were added to break up the softness of the other colours.

Hermione's wedding dress was understated and a perfect picture of white. It was elegant and fell softly from her waist. Her hair was pinned up with various flowers from her bouquet. Her make up only emphasised her lovely features.

Draco's bowtie and vest were white, and the rest of the suit black, with only a gold pocket square and a pink peony pinned to his lapel. He kept his hair natural, the way Hermione always told him she liked, clean of any product and falling slightly in his eyes.

It was beautiful and their five hundred guests could see the true admiration and adoration Draco and Hermione had for each other.

* * *

 **Sorry for the lack of detail in the wedding.**

 **Read and review,  
** **\- FlowerChild22 xx**


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